Page 318 - [2]Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

THE HEIR OF SLYTHERIN

Harry had to crane his neck to look up into the giant face above:
It was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell al-
most to the bottom of the wizard’s sweeping stone robes, where

two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. And
between the feet, facedown, lay a small, black-robed figure with
flaming-red hair.
“Ginny!” Harry muttered, sprinting to her and dropping to his
knees. “Ginny — don’t be dead — please don’t be dead —” He
flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny’s shoulders, and turned her
over. Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were
closed, so she wasn’t Petrified. But then she must be —
“Ginny, please wake up,” Harry muttered desperately, shaking
her. Ginny’s head lolled hopelessly from side to side.
“She won’t wake,” said a soft voice.
Harry jumped and spun around on his knees.
A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar,

watching. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though
Harry were looking at him through a misted window. But there
was no mistaking him —
“Tom — Tom Riddle?”
Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry’s face.
“What d’you mean, she won’t wake?” Harry said desperately.
“She’s not — she’s not — ?”
“She’s still alive,” said Riddle. “But only just.”
Harry stared at him. Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty
years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him,
not a day older than sixteen.
“Are you a ghost?” Harry said uncertainly.

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